


I Wish

by Eruka_Crauw



Series: Musings [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 19:49:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11088708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eruka_Crauw/pseuds/Eruka_Crauw
Summary: After a particularly bad breakup that left me completely in shambles for over six months, I ended up writing this piece as a sort of emotional dump. Enjoy.





	I Wish

I wish that I could just forget everything about it, I wish that I had never decided to do anything. I wish that I didn’t have to be interested in him for as long as I had, and I wish I could stop thinking about him. I wish everything could go back to how it was, I wish that I hadn’t confronted her. I wish that I hadn’t done all the things I had done, that I had agreed to. I wish I had never loved him, that we had been more honest with each other, that I had known both sides of the story. I wish, I wish, I wish. I wish so many things, but we don’t always get what we want. Wishing is for the immature, the insecure, those trying to escape their reality through an act of god. But I need to grow up, I need to start acting like a mature adult and just grow the fuck up. I’ll never get him back, because I can never make him love me. You can’t force love, and you can’t wake up from this dream no matter how hard you try. This isn’t a dream, this is just another skewed point in your reality, another inception that you simply cant wake up from. You love him, you really do, but you need to learn to let him go. He’s better off without you, and deserves better, someone who he can actually love that will love him back. No matter how much you convince yourself that he was the one that didn’t love you, there’s still that nagging thought in the back of your head, wanting him back. “It was only physical attraction” he said, “Thank you” you said. Maybe if you had slept with him he would still be with me, maybe he would still love me. (He wouldn’t) maybe if I had agreed to do more, then he would have stayed with me. (he wouldn’t.) Maybe if I had shown him that poem he would have understood how I felt more. (he would’ve found it weird and creepy) Maybe if.. Maybe if. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Thats the “adult” version of wishing, isnt it? We all take up these little nigglings in the back of our heads, telling us this and that, quashing these fears and fueling those. Maybe, maybe, maybe; if, if, if; I wish, I wish, I wish. They’re all the same, and they all hurt. I’ve never understood cutting to relieve mental pain with physical pain. It always stood out as counterproductive and selfish to me, a cry for help. But now I do. I won’t cut, but I understand the inflicting of harm on oneself in order to make one feel better. It makes sense now, but I do it in my own way. I always have. I’ve always dealt with pain the same way I always did with pleasure: outside of the public eye, and unrecognisable to most others. Biting, chewing, scratching, twitching, they all calm me. I try to chew gum to make it better, but it rarely works. And why would it? I know what I want, and he does too. You told him, remember? You told him everything, everything you felt, everything you thought. It took very little to tell him, because you trusted him. You LOVED him. At least you think you did. You’re not quite sure now, you think it may have been the same for you as it was for him. You’ve always felt a disconnect between mind and body, why would love be any different? Why would you think you would feel any different about him as you did to anyone else. But you did, I did. I felt different for him, something I hadn’t felt for anyone. I was feeling for the first time in years, and although I didn’t know how to describe it, how to pin it down, I knew what it was deep down. I cared for him, I wanted to protect him, to make him feel better when he was down. I wanted to be the light in his dark life, and I wanted to be his forever. I loved hearing him speak, watching him move, feeling him breathe. I loved everything about him, even the bad parts. I wanted to kiss his scars, every one of them. I wanted to comfort him in every moment he wasn’t feeling his best, and I wanted to be with him. For better or worse. I wanted to be apart of his life, and I wanted him to be apart of mine. I was content in what I had with him, but I should have been more careful. I shouldn’t have offered him that deal, I shouldn’t have blindly agreed with everything he wanted to do, and I should have taught him to love himself more, to make himself see what I saw in him. I wanted him to love himself just as much as I loved him.  
Maybe all I really wanted of him was for him to cling to me like he clung to her, like he were a dying man. Like if he were to let her go, he'd never see her again. And maybe that's true, maybe he never would see her again. But if he had looked at me like he had looked at her, then maybe he would have been able to love me. Maybe he would have let her go, let her leave, things would have been fine. I wouldn't feel so numb, I wouldn't want to cry every time I saw him. I wouldn't drop every time I heard his name, or smelled him, or saw his face, or was reminded of him and the things we did in any way. I don't want to be numb anymore. I was finally getting better, my dissociative episodes fading out of the picture almost entirely. Sure, I felt more and cried more and my dysphoric episodes replaced my dissociative ones, but I would rather have felt all that and be with him than feel nothing, have nothing, and be without.


End file.
